The Miasma
by Rayezin
Summary: Fantasy based on the game Lords of Magic. The Vyanthans - steadfast allies of the Elves and Archon men - have turned violent and are wreaking havoc on the face of Urak. Is it bloodlust, or something darker? Follows Daelin Shadowsong, an Eldren Thief. (The
1. The Turncoat

This is a fanfiction based on the game Lords of Magic: Special Edition. It's rather old school, but creative and enchanting all the same - if you don't have it, get it!  
  
All aspects of the game are the property of the nice people at Sierra Games, but individual characters and the events portrayed herein are my creation. That was all formal sounding, weren't it.  
  
A quick note for those who haven't played the game (some of it is covered in the story, but you won't understand a lot of it as readily if you don't read this): *In the game there are 8 faiths/kingdoms: Water, Fire, Earth, Air, Chaos, Order, Life, Death. They each have their own specific enemy (Water vs Fire, etc), and all are enemy to Death. *Each faith has its own Great Temple. Typically, the Lord/Lady of a faith is also its religious figurehead. *Life is dominated by Elves with some humans, referred to collectively as the Eldren (worshippers of the life goddess Llanwylln, the Mother). They live in the land of Atarandor. *Water is comprised of women warriors, in the same sort of tribal system as the Grecian Amazons - including the fact that they are all women warriors. They live by bodies of water, and worship both its life-giving and destructive powers. Some of their infantry includes Lizardmen. Use your imagination. They live in the land of Vyantha, and are called also the Vyanthans. *Order is a medieval, King Arthur-style feudal system, with knights and rangers and wizards. It is comprised almost entirely of humans, with the typical male dominance of the age. They believe all things are designated and ruled by fate, nice and orderly. They live in the plains of Symmet, and are also called the Archons. *Death is made up of mostly Dark Elves - kin of the Life Elves - and some humans. They worship the dark god Golgotha, and are called collectively Golgothans. They believe this world is parallel with the Shadowrealm, where one's Shadow roams always in search of its Soul - bound on this plane by your body. They will gleefully meet their death on the battle field. Torture and sacrifice are popular venues for Golgothan necromancers, who use the life force as a source of power and enslavement. To them, the essences of their Life-worshipping Elven kin are the most powerful 'batteries' in this world. *I'll explain more about other cultures if and when they appear in the story. If you've actually taken the time to read this, good for you! Thank you kindly, and on with the fiction.  
  
The Miasma  
  
Chapter 1: The Turncoat  
  
The sunlight broke through the canopy in dim shafts, appearing only to disappear again like faery lights. Tiny, fragrant flowers covered the roots of the young trees like a thick moss, creating patches of colorful carpeting throughout the forest floor. Pollen drifted slowly in the windless space, and the singing of birds was an ongoing cacophony of sweet music.  
  
Only one dared to disturb this peace. The flapping of leathery wings scurried through the few shadowy places among the brush, making its way toward a low building at the wood's edge. The creature's movement as it approached altogether quieted, and it strained to hear the voices within.  
  
Another shaft of golden light opened up at the other side of the wood, and the silver gleam of an arrowhead shone like a beacon of warning. But the creature did not notice it. He lay unknowingly under a deadly aim, and the arrow shifted imperceptibly. Now certain, the archer loosed the arrow.  
  
A chilling screech shattered the silence.  
  
Hearing the terrible sound, two Thieves emerged from the building to investigate, surprised at what they found. It was a feral bat, hissing and writhing against the arrow that pinned its wing to the ground. One Thief, Delwen, peered into the branches and leaves to see someone perched among the trees. She smiled faintly in recognition and gestured to the archer before turning to deal with the Golgothan spy.  
  
Daelin waved back, and walked along the top of the wall which surrounded the Guild yard.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Daelin! I wasn't expecting you to return so soon. Lifted some more coin to lose to the dice?"  
  
"Afraid I can't play tonight, Mae. I'm on duty."  
  
Maera, the barkeep of the Oaken Tankarde Inne and Taverne smirked and shrugged one shoulder, balancing a tray in the other hand as she made her way across the dim common room.  
  
"The lads will be disappointed. You've become their favorite opponent."  
  
She had also become their main source of income. It was easy enough for her to win if she wanted, but Devin and Tal were very poor. Humans were rare among the Eldren people, even rarer to take residence in the capital city - a difficult place for them to make a living. The Elves kept their business and trades to themselves, but were willing to impart hard labor to their mortal employees. Pay was stiff and Devin and Tal were barely making ends meet. So Daelin would underhandedly impart any charity she could, while living off the proffered sustenance of friends and occasional stolen change.  
  
Still, they were a welcome change from most reserved Elves, and were lively drinking partners.  
  
Her keen eyes swept over the room quickly, not seeing anyone of a suspicious nature. Indeed, all present were friends she had known for many years. Such was the life of a Champion Thief - known to all, yet close to few. And even those close were usually other Thieves, who could be rarely trusted.  
  
Making her way carefully through the tables, Daelin finally sat in a chair by an older human woman who was gazing wearily into her tankard. She glanced up at the Elf, a smile creasing the skin around her eyes.  
  
"I saw you come in, but I did not recognize you," said Lir, a Water Thief. She came to serve the Eldren Empress in a trade situation, offered as a gift for her experience. And of that she had much, for she was nearing her sixties, and her eyesight was fading. Lir now spent her days as an instructor at the Thieves Guild, for she could no longer employ her abilities to their fullest. Besides, these were peaceful times.  
  
"You've missed some excitement at the Guild. It seems the Golgothans have been sending out scouts to spy on us." Daelin tipped her chair back, taking up the tankard that Maera dropped off. Lir looked at her in mild disbelief, arching a graying brow.  
  
"Golgothans? The Dark Elves have been inactive for years, since the Great Wars. What would make them bold enough to venture in a superior realm?"  
  
Daelin considered the strange, macabre ways of the death- and decay- worshipping fiends until Lir interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"There's been a rumor going around, by the way. That's why you're here, isn't it?"  
  
The Elf sat up, shrugging. "I was hoping to sneak a break, but since you've just ruined it.. What rumor?"  
  
"The Amazons have waged war with the Archon men."  
  
Daelin tilted her head. While the women tribes of the sea and the followers of Order were not steadfast allies, for obvious reasons involving gender, theirs had been a peaceful trade situation which also included the Eldren. Since the Golgothan Lord Balkoth's defeat ten years ago, they had regained their strength thanks to mutual aid from all three kingdoms. Lir spoke again.  
  
"I don't believe it myself, clearly. Lady Tempest would never betray an ally without just cause." She sipped her drink quietly.  
  
They sat in silence for a short while, until another Thief entered the tavern. Spotting Daelin, she moved quickly to her side, whispering in her ear. Daelin looked up from her tankard as the messenger exited.  
  
"A summons to the council. Ten gold says I'm to spy on the Amazons," said Daelin, standing. Lir smirked. She knew that gambling was a habit of Daelin's not to be indulged. She instead waved her away, turning her attention back to the crowd.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Daelin stepped up the stairway to the Stronghold entrance. It was there where royal officials held their meetings and discussed plans of battle, though the latter had not been done for some time until now.  
  
Passing through the doorway to the open courtyard, Daelin noted a number of Champions seated below the Empress, who sat on a pavilion which resided over all. She was a fair haired beauty with clear blue eyes, who betrayed an ancient knowledge beyond her youthful appearance. A mage queen, she was dressed in long yellow robes which cascaded down the dais steps, and wore a crown of woven gold, silver and ivy. The sunlight from above illuminated her visage and gave her the look of a goddess.  
  
"Greetings, Daelin Shadowsong, of the Third Rank."  
  
Daelin sank to one knee in an exaggerated bow. "Our ever-lasting Empress. My queen has sent for me?"  
  
"I assume you have heard the rumors revolving around the Amazons and the Archons. I'll be brief. You are to travel North and investigate the Vyanthan kingdom. If these rumors are true..."  
  
"I understand, my queen." Bowing once more before leaving, Daelin took her leave, immediately embarking on the north-bound highway. If she had it her way, Daelin would be ten gold pieces richer now.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The border village between the Amazon kingdom Vyantha and the Eldren land of Atarandor was of the Amazon influence. Situated between lush meadowland and a lake, the huts and roofs of the buildings were of white and blue shell tiles, and mist from the water enveloped it in shimmering ethereal gauze. Indeed, most of the inhabitants were Amazons and Lizardmen, outnumbering the Eldren ten to one.  
  
As Daelin neared the village, she could already see a tower in the distance, thrusting toward the heavens like a pearly spike. This was a startling new development. Along with the brand new tower, the Amazons had also constructed a barracks. Lizardmen trained in the yards under the powerful yells of the Amazon Warrior instructors, and more still marched from the village north-east, presumably toward the Archon borders.  
  
Apparently, as Daelin heard from the handful of local Elves, these were built within the last month, and immediately troops were being sent forth to the north and east. And all the while, the Amazons had not uttered a word to any of the resident Elves, though it was not necessarily expected. From the Eldren Daelin also heard tales of battle at the village of Ta'rach, on the border of O'sean and Symmet, which the Archons originally owned and were now fighting to keep possession of it.  
  
One night a troupe of Lizardmen and an Amazon Warrior began their trek toward the Water Great Temple. Apparently Lord Tempest's orders were too preoccupied with supplying her armies with sufficient numbers that she hadn't taken the time to assign Thieves to watch over the parties from spies such as Daelin. Not that Daelin was complaining, of course. The lizardmen's way was noisy and careless, and while they served as stout fighters in battle, were almost completely incapable of being unnoticed and undetected in their travel. It was such a troupe that Daelin followed closely toward the Temple.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Within a day's travel the party reached the Great Temple of the Amazons. As the army marched on towards the Holy Spring - another new addition, Daelin noted, since any Elves had last been in these parts - Daelin kept near the road to watch from afar, hidden in one of the few patches of trees that lived this far north. The army was greeted by Water Magi and Priestesses. The troops made camp for the night, which was a long way off, presumably to rest themselves for Holy Anointment tomorrow. Daelin continued along the highway, not bothering to wait.  
  
Just south of the Strait of Arrach, she encountered yet another Thiefless group heading toward the border. Following them along the road, the group passed by an inn which they did not stop at. Finding it to be a good opportunity to gather information, Daelin took the liberty of 'borrowing' a cloak from one of the soldiers that night. Donning it to conceal all of her clothing, she also let her hair down to hide her pointed Elven ears which were further hidden by her hood.  
  
The inn was a typical one, varying from all others in the lands only in its maritime motif. The sign of the old, weathered building was carved in the shape of a seashell, faded aquamarine paint spelling out 'Fisherwoman's Hole.' It seemed impossible for such an over-sized shanty to be able to withstand years of sea storms. Inside, there were nets and various marine decorations, including shells and driftwood. An old fishing boat hung from the rafters, suspending lanterns from the prow. There were mostly lizardmen about, the few Amazons being of the common type, not Champions.  
  
A group of lizardmen was gathered at the counter, slurping brine.  
  
"Why aren't you fighting, Ssskisss? I thought you joined the Amazon barracksss," said one to the other. "Are you afraid the shiny men will run through your ssscalesss with his pointy ssspears?" All others, save Skiss, had a hissing laugh at his expense.  
  
"The Amazonsss want only experiensssed fightersss. I went for training, but the women are cruel instructorsss," replied Skiss, defending himself.  
  
"Tempessst fearsss the Archonsss too greatly," another piped up.  
  
"The old sea-dog fearsss nothing. It wasss sshe who took their village from them. Now the men, for all their sshiny platesss and pointy ssspearsss, cannot ssstand againssst ssscalesss and sshell!"  
  
The group erupted in laughter, and after a few more blows to the Archon's deficiency and taste in war garb, the conversation turned to more trivial matters. But Daelin, who kept to herself in one corner of the common room, had heard all she needed to report to the Empress. She had the facts, the only question remaining was why. Had the Archons infringed the treaty? Further reconnaissance may be necessary in Symmet. Rising from her seat, Daelin calmly made her way for the door.  
  
Just then, she got a sinking feeling of dread in her chest. She paused. The air seemed denser now, and more oppressive. The room seemed to darken despite the afternoon sun, and she felt almost... terrified. Turning, Daelin looked to the right.  
  
He was Cormeer, one of the most infamous Assassins known of the Golgothan Guild. Supposedly the wielder of the Knife of Life Stealing, he was responsible for the murders of countless champions during the Dark Wars over a decade ago, in which the Dark Lord Balkoth fell some years later. Cormeer, like the other Death champions that managed to flee, disappeared back into the swamps of De'kay, and was never to be seen again. Until now.  
  
Daelin's heart began to pound against its own will, for the very presence of a Death servant of such power was known to inspire fear into even the bravest of armies. She had only heard of the Assassin in stories, which provided more than enough description to identify him - dressed in garments and a cowl as black as his skin, which was criss crossed with scars, created by both opponents and himself. His eyes were red, and seemed to pierce through to the very soul, which he sought to enslave for his Dark Master. His lips were always curled into a smirking sneer. On his breast was a sort of badge, carved from the skull bone of his five hundredth victim, signifying his rank as the presiding Assassin at his Guild.  
  
Cormeer roamed the common room freely in stealth, a feat which only the most skilled of Thieves could accomplish in such a crowded place. But why? Why would a Golgothan Assassin by spying on the Amazons? Various flying and sea-faring scouts have given reports of general inactivity in the ruined lands of De'kay. Cormeer had no Lord to find information for, so why would he bother spying on such a powerful realm? To watch all of the violence and death now being held between the Amazons and Archons, Daelin supposed. But could that really be it?  
  
Returning from her thoughts, Daelin moved hastily out of the inn, praying to the Mother she went undetected by the Assassin. She hoped he would not be able to follow her in territory so unfavorable to him. Ditching the cloak by the road, Daelin journeyed swiftly back to the lands of Atarandor. 


	2. The Knife of Life Stealing

Chapter 2: The Knife of Life Stealing  
  
About a mile past the village, Daelin came to the Tel'Shan wood, one of the smaller forests in the lands of Atarandor. Being on the outskirts of the realm, Tel'Shan wasn't as magickal as the forests found near the center of Atarandor's arcane influence. Pixies were rare, dryads not as common, and overall it was as mundane as any other wood found in the lands of Vyantha or Symmet.  
  
As she approached the entrance to the wood the moon was rising, and the opening in the dark forest yawned like the open mouth of a grave. A chill tingled down Daelin's spine, but she took it as nothing more than the breeze. For some reason, Daelin began to walk faster. Only fifty paces away now. The trees were a safe place, she thought. But why did she feel the need for safety? Her heart began to pound, and she stopped.  
  
Was someone following her? A brownie playing a prank, no doubt. Or a forest faery with nothing better to do. Daelin's gaze drifted to the dark Water village in the distance. So silent, almost as if it were lying in a death. Then, her Elven ears heard it - the quiet ring of metal sliding against metal.  
  
Daelin's arm shot up between her neck and the dark blade, the serrated edge cutting deep into the flesh of her forearm. Her breath came sharply through clenched teeth, and soon her own short sword stabbed at the body behind her. She whirled as it lept back.  
  
Cormeer seemed to be overjoyed at the sight of blood, which he licked slowly from his blade, savoring the taste of it. The small cut in his arm gave him no displeasure. Daelin stepped back a few paces, her wounds burning strangely and her mind reeling. Cormeer gave a low chuckle as he disappeared into stealth.  
  
Daelin froze for an instant before breaking into a mad dash for the trees. The lush meadow terrain lent her tired legs speed while it gave away Cormeer's position, who could be heard giving chase. She slipped into stealth and was lost to him as she faded into the woods.  
  
She wove in and out of the trees, her whole arm beginning to ache, and her chest pounding. There was a brook not far away, but she wasn't sure if the Assassin was still following her. The thick brush and bushes now opened up into a dell, which she ran into, unaware of the three Dark Elf halberdiers waiting for their leader to return with the meat of an Eldren.  
  
Daelin skidded to a stop, not more than five paces from the nearest Dark Elf. They were sitting around on the ground and an old fallen branch, all silent and brooding. One picked up his head and glanced her way, but looked past her, unseeing. She took quiet, careful steps backwards, unaware of the blood dripping from her arm to the dirt. The three halberdiers rose.  
  
"It seems Cormeer has led us a pretty morsel.. the blood smells fresh and young."  
  
Daelin looked down around her feet, where spatters of dark crimson oozed from her wounds to be seen by all, though she was still invisible. She cradled her arm to try to stop the flow of blood, and moved silently away from the small puddle. The Dark Ones searched around the clearing.  
  
"It is a Thief, no doubt. Thinks she can hide. Not for long, dearie, I can smell you!"  
  
As she watched the prowling three, Daelin began to feel faint. Her wounds, oddly, were beginning to feel numb, but the flow of blood was ever increasing. Her vision began to cloud, and a tiny rivulet of blood began to flow down the bark of the tree she was leaning against. Keen on the scent, they easily detected her, and the one nearest raised his halberd to strike.  
  
There was a sickening thud, and the halberdier fell, a lump forming at the base of his skull. Daelin herself slumped to the ground, hearing the sounds of the fight around her. Forcing her eyes to focus, she looked up to watch as the second Dark Elf parried with an iron-bound staff, which moved like lightning to strike its target over the head. The third thrust his bladed weapon at something large and pale yellow, but did not pierce it. He too fell with his comrades at the deadly, but merciful quarterstaff.  
  
Daelin stood, still in stealth, as her now clear vision took in the sight before her. Mounted upon a great war reptile, an Eldren Warrior stood silently amidst the unconscious bodies. He looked down at them, almost thoughtfully, as his pale golden hair fell past his shoulders in curtains. Light skin, faintly tanned from days of travel, glowed in the dim moonlight, and his mail glimmered silver, matching the metal circlet which crowned his head.  
  
Suddenly, he looked up, and Daelin started. She followed his puzzled gaze to the blood on the ground, of which he had not spilled from the Dark Elves. He looked on either side of his mount in the unlikely event that their weapons had pierced the tough scales. Nothing. He looked then to the tree, where the flow of the rivulet was still fresh. The warrior began to ease his mount in that direction till a sound broke the silence.  
  
The Assassin. Daelin, against all of the strange aching and pain which had now spread through most of her body, dashed from the tree - still in stealth - and threw herself onto the back of the warrior's saddle, thrusting a bloodied arm around his waist and putting them both into stealth. She hissed in his ear.  
  
"Fly, you fool!" 


	3. A Strange Curse

TemplarFF - Thanks for reading! Yes, I thought for sure no one would read this as it's in the Misc section, and Lords of Magic is such an old game. And I did plan on having a Dwarf - in fact, the original draft of the tavern scene talked about how Daelin was all into Dwarf dice and ale and generally preferred Dwarves over Elves, but that'll be explored later on. brbr Typically I play Life, but make it a point to (nicely) take over Earth, Order, and Water. No fan fiction would do without some ale-guzzling Dwarves in it! Thank you for reviewing, I appreciate it. brbr  
  
Chapter 3: A Strange Curse  
  
Dark, mangled shapes blurred by as they raced through the trees. The bracing wind, deafening silence, and jarring motion of the war mount swirled together and forced Daelin to shut her eyes against the impending nausea. She force her mind to concentrate on things more still. she felt the blood of her arm oozing slowly from her wound, the heavy feeling of fatigue her skin and body. the tense muscles and rigid back of the warrior. The rings of his mail felt like scales, his tunic rough, and the golden hair flowing past his shoulder smooth and silken against her cheek. She barely noted the slipping of her legs and the sudden lack of a saddle beneath her.  
  
A distant feeling of pain pervaded her foggy thoughts, and Daelin feebly attempted to straighten herself from the ground. She opened her eyes but saw only black, with occasional flashes of red from the throbbing pain in her arm. All sense of the world around her was lost as her mind went in circles, but she could hear a soft step as the warrior quickly dismounted.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
There was a pause, and she could feel one hand gingerly lift her shoulder, the other tentatively pressing against her ribs, searching for injury. He spoke again, his voice soft but insistent.  
  
"Can you hear me? You must speak."  
  
Whether she made any sort of reply, Daelin didn't know, but she could feel his arms sliding under her shoulders and knees as he carefully lifted her. Shortly, they were back in the saddle. As they departed at a steady canter, Daelin found herself drifting to sleep. The warrior's voice interrupted her dozing.  
  
"Stay awake, you mustn't sleep. What is your name?"  
  
He constantly inquired about herself, or spoke to her about anything, to keep her awake. Before long, however, his voice began to fade and she could no longer hear him. After that, darkness.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The faint sound of singing birds and running water resonated through the black. Her mind felt incredibly at ease, and slowly, Daelin opened her eyes.  
  
The dawn began to trickle through the window at the side of her pallet, which was made up of wool blankets of down, vibrantly quilted with leaves and suns, moons, and countless stars. Her arm was carefully wrapped in fresh linens, detecting amongst the painful tingling the soothing numbness of a common herbal salve. It was then that she noticed she felt unnaturally tired, even for the events of the night before.  
  
"You've woken up, that's lovely. How are you feeling, my dear?" inquired a female voice.  
  
Daelin sat up carefully, looking across the hamlet room at an elderly Elf - as elderly an Elf could be, at least, for their eternal youthfulness, though their eyes betrayed a look of wisdom - who smiled at her warmly. She was crushing herbs, glimmer blossoms, in a mortar, making another poultice Daelin guessed.  
  
Daelin lifted her good arm to rest against her aching head. "Where is this place, how did I get here?"  
  
The lady Elf crossed the room then, propping extra pillows behind Daelin's back so that she might sit up without strain. "Llandon brought you were from the Tel'Shan. That's all he would tell me."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Llandon," repeated the Elf as she began to unwrap the bandages to replace the poultice. "He'll be back soon enough to bring you to the capital for a proper healing, but until then I'll see what I can do."  
  
Placing the bandages aside, she removed the poultice of crushed flowers and leaves to reveal the wound. It was the span of a finger, though not too deep. It was a flesh wound, and would only take perhaps a week or so to knit enough to move (unaided by magick). But the weapon used to inflict it added a certain complication. The center of the wound was pale yellow, rather than blood red, and faint black-blue lines crept away from it like spider veins. A sort of dark arcane disease, spreading through her blood.  
  
Daelin had seen worse, but chose to look away anyway. She was too tired to be alarmed. The lady Elf smiled at her comfortingly.  
  
"Don't worry, the healers at the city temple will be able to cure it easily enough. I can slow it, but I'm sorry I could not be of more help." She applied the second remedy and bandaged the sight quickly, much to Daelin's contentment. It was easier not having to look at it.  
  
Just then, a tall figure stepped through the doorway. At first, the sunlight pouring in from behind him blinded her to his features, but as he moved to the lady Elf's side, Daelin slowly recognized him as the pale- haired warrior from the previous night - previous, assuming she had only slept a short while. Llandon put his hand on the Elf's shoulder in greeting, and then looked down at her, his voice filled with genuine concern.  
  
"Are you feeling well?"  
  
The lady Elf answered before Daelin could herself.  
  
"She needs to get to a proper healer as soon as possible. There is no threat to her life, but I have never seen a curse like this and can't be sure of the effects."  
  
And that is a great comfort to me, Daelin thought bitterly as she felt a burning sensation traveling through her veins. Llandon nodded. "We will leave immediately. Are you able to walk?"  
  
If she couldn't walk, she wouldn't have told the truth anyway. She only gave a quick nod in answer, and swung her legs to the floor, standing slowly and testing her balance. The room began to tilt and she shut her eyes against dizziness. Strong hands took hold of her shoulders before Daelin even knew she was falling.  
  
"I'll take that as a 'no.'"  
  
He lifted her into his arms without effort, speaking in hushed tones to the lady Elf before heading out the door. Had her head not been pounding out the beat to 'Crossroads of the Forest,' Daelin would have protested. Trust me. Llandon set her in the saddle before him, and sped quickly down the highway toward the capital.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The morning felt warm and fresh. Dew reflected the rising sunlight off of the grass and flowers across the meadowlands, and there were white billowing clouds stretching across the sky all the way to the horizon. All seemed right with the world as another beautiful day began. So beautiful that one wouldn't imagine the dark encounter that took place only the previous night, Llandon thought.  
  
It wasn't unusual that he ran into other champions on his treks across the lands of Life, although Thieves were uncommon. They wouldn't allow themselves to be seen, even by their own people. Thieves being attacked by Golgothans were rarer still - especially when a highly skilled Assassin was involved. Only a truly prestigious Assassin would be able to get close enough to inflict such a wound on a high ranking Life Thief - on Eldren territory.  
  
And this girl did appear to be high ranking. He looked down at the now- unconscious form before him, and it was not the first time he had considered her appearance so carefully. She was beautiful, as all Elves are, with rich, dark auburn hair which she wore back. He could recall the color of her eyes perfectly as he had seen them during her brief moments of wakefulness at Gilwen's hamlet. They had been green, an emerald color. If you looked close enough, imperceptible flecks of gold shone around her irises. She seemed young even for an Elf, still fresh and green enough for most others to be able to speak down to her. Not much unlike himself. Her clothes were the typical garb most Life Thieves donned - a short riding skirt, green, and a sleeveless green shirt that exposed her abdomen. The dark emblem on her leather vest was the only indication of her rank.  
  
Still, his attention always drifted back to the wound on her forearm. In some part of his mind that had been cultivated to defend, he felt partially responsible. His life and training was dedicated to protect. He had never been in any sort of battle which called upon that duty, but Llandon considered this his first test - and he had failed. He knew he could never have prevented this, but maybe if he had been keeping a better watch, or had been more wary of trespassers...?  
  
His thoughts were interrupted as his mount, a large lizard as golden-yellow as the sun, slowed to a halt. The city gates loomed before him, and one of the guards looked up at him from his post. He took one good look at him, and then gestured up at the gatekeeper.  
  
"It's Llandon, let him pass."  
  
No one seemed to notice the Elf in his lap was injured. Just as well, he didn't have time to stop and explain. As the gates open, he passed through quickly, making his way through the capital to the temple.  
  
* * * * *  
  
The temple in the Capital was a structure of considerable size. As all of the other buildings in Atarandor, the walls were whitewashed and immaculate, the roof shingled in a yellow-gold color which reflected the sunshine, creating a halo-like glow around the city, which added to its grandeur. It was tucked away at one of the far ends of the city, away from the busy streets and markets.  
  
Llandon halted his mount at the foot of the pathway that led up to the doors, and it was here that two priestesses came down to meet him. They didn't wait for him to explain, but motioned for him to follow them inside. He carried her along the path, up the granite steps, and inside the cave of a room. It was dim, as only a few windows were open to puncture the darkness to light the studying of training healers. The scent of herbs overpowered all else, and the walls were covered in bookshelves, tapestries, and images of the Mother.  
  
The priestesses led him to a high set rectangle of marble, the sides ornately carved with trees, flowers, and a sun in the center, its rays stretching out evenly around it to bathe all Life in its light. He laid Daelin down across the top, which was polished and smooth. It would be here that the healer would treat her.  
  
The presiding healer was one that Llandon did not recognize. Having been raised and trained close to the city, he was familiar with most who offered services here, especially at the temple, which he had to visit for treatment more than once. The healer, a young Eldren maiden, smiled at him warmly.  
  
"Elvara has been called away for a ceremony at the Great Temple. I am her apprentice, Talien, and will be taking her place for the time being."  
  
Llandon nodded politely, but the girl had already turned her back on him to examine the patient.  
  
"This is a Golgothan curse. How did this happen?" The healer turned a curious look his way.  
  
"I wasn't present at the time it happened, but as far as I know she had an encounter with an Assassin."  
  
The healer looked again at the wound, unwrapping Gilwen's poultice carefully. She started visibly at the sight of the cut. "This is a strange manner for a curse to spread, but it's nothing I can't handle. Are you family? A relation?"  
  
"No, I was-" She cut him off before he could continue.  
  
"Then please inform her family. It is spreading through her veins; the curse is physical, a disease, not magickal. Medicine should be able to eradicate the infection before she sustains any serious injury. She'll need assistance moving about after she wakes, and I want her under watch for the next few days. I want to make sure this doesn't take an unexpected turn."  
  
Llandon nodded and turned away, exiting the premises. He failed to mention that he didn't know who she was. No matter, he would inquire at the Thieves Guild, learn her identity, and deliver the message to a relative. This would be his top priority above all other duties until it was fulfilled. It was the least he could do for the nameless Thief who had been injured in a region under his watch. 


	4. A Strange Request and Dark Rumors

TemplarFF: Hoping that this is indeed one of MANY Lords of Magic fan fictions you've read elsewhere (as I see no more on FF.net, sadly), thank you very much! And yes yes, bring on the readers. The best compliment is telling your friends =).  
  
This posting is a tad unedited and perhaps a bit.. I dunno.. disjointed? I worry there may be too much dialogue in the latter half, but you be the judge.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
A Bold Request and Dark Rumors  
  
The aroma of incense and dust was overpowering, and the grinding of mortars and shuffling of parchment could be heard all around. Daelin felt very calm and at peace, and even the pain in her arm had faded completely. But the feeling of waking up in some strange place was becoming all too-familiar. She opened her eyes to a marble ceiling.  
  
"I'm glad you're awake. You're at the city temple."  
  
It was Llandon, the warrior, who had answered her unvoiced question. He stood at her side, rapt and at attention like a soldier. Carefully, she sat up. No nausea or dizziness accompanied her movement anymore, and she could clearly see her surroundings.  
  
"How long have I been asleep?" she asked him.  
  
"A few hours. It is nearing sunset." He looked down at her. "I tried to contact your family to let them know what happened, but I was unable to find them."  
  
"My family is gone." She did not elaborate. "But I should be getting back to work now." Swinging her legs over the side, Daelin hopped off the table. Not the best move. The sudden rush of blood sent a haze over her vision, though she didn't quite stumble. Closing her eyes, she snatched her hand away before Llandon could reach out to steady her. "I'm fine."  
  
He didn't look very convinced. Duty kicked in. "Please allow me to escort you back to your Guild, at the very least."  
  
Daelin shook her head. Stepping forward, she opened her eyes and tested her balance. Then she took another step, and another, until she was headed at a casual pace towards the door. Besides the head rush, she felt completely normal.  
  
"I need to report to the Empress. You may accompany me to the Stronghold if you wish, but I'm well now."  
  
He smiled down at her politely. "To the Stronghold, then."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The light in the courtyard had begun to fade as the sun began its descent into the west. The golden halo over the roofs, trees, and gilded furnishings of the Stronghold had dimmed, and blue moonlight illuminated the whitewashed walls in an eerie glow. Great marble figures towered above the walkway like sentry men, likenesses of gods and heroes who gazed at each other with eyeless stares.  
  
Unceremoniously, Daelin made her way through the great hall into the council's courtyard. It didn't take her long to figure out she was interrupting something.  
  
Facing the semicircle of Eldren council members was a Vyanthan Thief, clothed in the same pale blue as the moonlight on the sea. She was kneeling, though she kept her neck and back stiff as if in defiance. The atmosphere was considerably tense.  
  
One of the council members, a captain of the Eldren Barracks, spoke in distressed tones.  
  
"We cannot condone your actions against the Archon people by fulfilling this request. The Archons are our allies and have been for some time. We cannot allow ourselves to get caught in the middle."  
  
The voice of the Amazon was melodic, yet powerful. "The Archons push at our borders as we rush to assemble the necessary troops, and the Elves sit and ponder! We demand the warrior Llandon, son of Aranmor, to train our soldiers and hold our lines!"  
  
Daelin glanced over her shoulder at the warrior who escorted her here. Was he some kind of hero she'd never heard of before? The gentle, patient voice of the Empress cut her thinking short.  
  
"We place ourselves in danger by giving him up. If we make ourselves an enemy to the Archons, they may attack us from across the ocean. Rumors spread of stirrings in the swamps of Dekay. We will need our commander and heir if the Dark Elves should rise again."  
  
"The Archons cannot cross the ocean while we stand before them," said the Amazon hastily. "And the Dark Ones are as unmoving as ever! Aid us, and the Vyantha will protect your borders."  
  
The visage of the Empress was serene but troubled, as a still pond ripples from falling stones. She looked upon the woman with utmost sympathy. "I am sorry."  
  
The air around the Amazon seemed to heat with unexpressed resentment, but her eyes looked upon the council icily. She did not stop to dip her head in respect as she stood and left the Stronghold.  
  
Daelin was not left much time to ponder this course of events. Instead, the Empress addressed her.  
  
"You have been cursed, Daelin Shadowsong," stated the queen simply. She was the religious and magickal figurehead of the Eldren, and her ability to sense a dark enchantment was no surprise to those around her. "Please don't confirm the rumors we have been hearing as of late."  
  
Chills crept up Daelin's spine, for the very memory of the encounter made her heart pound. "I was able to inquire at the village without event. The Amazons have constructed a tower and barracks, and are sending troops - more in number than in skill - to the Archon border. I learned also that Lord Tempest has waged open war with the Archons at the strait, and are pushing into their lands at a quickening pace. Needless to say, I would not trust the words of the Thief who just left us."  
  
The eyes of the council were upon her, more eager to hear of the source of her curse. Daelin took a deep breath and continued.  
  
"I had returned to the Tel'Shan wood when I was attacked by an Assassin. Cormeer the Soul Stealer," if there was any sort of noise in the courtyard now, it had silenced. She could almost feel them imperceptibly shrink away from her and her wound. "his dagger cut my arm, and I fled. I don't recall all that occurred between then and now. I suppose the dagger was cursed."  
  
It was at this time that Llandon chose to speak up.  
  
"I found her, my queen, and three Dark Elves. I brought her to a healer to treat her injuries, and then to the city temple. My queen, the Dark Ones were well within the border. I do not know how they could have passed me."  
  
"If they came from the south," replied the Empress evenly, "then there is no reason you should have encountered them at the northern border. Though the question remains as to how they were able to cross our own territory unchecked by anyone between here and the southern border."  
  
Another council member suggested, "Perhaps the Assassin led them under cover."  
  
"It matters not how they came to be here," said the Empress. "But why. A decade of peace has left our borders lax and open to trespassers. I want the sentry to be doubled, and spies sent to the south to keep wary of Thieves." The members murmured in acknowledgement. "Daelin Shadowsong, I will call upon you in a few days. Until then, rest and be among friends. I shall have a sentry man escort you."  
  
"You needn't trouble yourself, nor your men. I am more than well enough to walk the short path to the Guild." Daelin passed a look at Llandon. Some kind of official, was he? He didn't seem old enough to have landed a position on the council. It was of no consequence and mattered little to her, still she felt thankful for his help. Admitting it was another matter entirely. She nodded her head quickly to him before leaving.  
  
"My lord."  
  
"Lady. Are you sure you require no escort?" There was a slight tinge of desperation in his tone, as if he were seeking an excuse to leave. The voice of the Empress interrupted any reply Daelin might have given.  
  
"Remain, my lord Llandon, and talk with me after council has broken. You are relieved of your duty on the northern border."  
  
Daelin watched the defeated expression cross the warrior's face, but it was quickly masked with a solemn nod and bow. "My queen."  
  
Had she gotten him in trouble, for not having guarded the region carefully enough? Not prepared to deal with the guilt and sympathy which accompanied that thought, she crept silently from the courtyard and departed to the Thieves Guild. 


End file.
